Cast For Death by Margaret Yorke Page A

dukes?’ asked Manolakis.
    ‘They don’t all belong to dukes,’ Liz said. ‘There’s a lovely one near here where they have all sorts of conferences to do with various problems – Sir Winston stayed there at weekends during the war – it belongs to some sort of trust. Have you been to Ditchley Park, Patrick?’ she asked, over her shoulder.
    He had not.
    ‘Or Woburn Abbey?’
    ‘No. I don’t want baboons on my bonnet,’ said Patrick. ‘You have to go through a jungle to get to the house.’
    ‘No, you don’t,’ said Liz. ‘The wild life park is quite separate. I’d love to see the house.’
    ‘I’d quite like to see the Canalettos,’ Patrick admitted.
    ‘What is this Woburn?’ asked Manolakis, so Liz told him about the home of the Duke of Bedford, now handed over to his son.
    ‘There are roundabouts and sideshows,’ said Patrick, shuddering.
    ‘There are lions and tigers?’ asked Manolakis, his face alight, like a child’s. ‘I have never seen these. Can we go there?’
    Liz, catching Patrick’s eye in the driving mirror, saw a look of horror on his face.
    ‘You probably don’t have many in Greece,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you, Dimitri.’
    ‘You need not come, Patrick, if it is not your thing,’ said Manolakis, who had just learned this expression. ‘Liz and I will be happy alone.’
    ‘I’m sure you will,’ said Patrick sourly.
    ‘Dimitri, it’s very good for us to have visitors from other countries. It makes us realise what treasures we have here,’ said Liz earnestly. ‘We don’t always bother to go and see them unless we have people to show them to.’
    ‘It is the same for us,’ said Manolakis generously, and patted her knee.
    Patrick leaned forward, inserting his head into the front of the car between the two seats, determined to break up this intimate atmosphere.
    ‘Sam’s funeral, Liz. You managed to go?’
    ‘Yes. I took some flowers.’
    Patrick had wanted to go to it, but that would have meant interrupting Manolakis’s tour to come back to London. Liz had heard about his dilemma when he telephoned to make the arrangements for the weekend, and had offered to go.
    ‘Who was there?’ he demanded now.
    ‘Hardly anyone. I was so glad I’d gone. It was awful, really. Utterly bleak.’
    ‘No family turned up?’
    ‘No. There were two men I’m quite sure were policemen – they looked like them, anyway – sorry, Dimitri, no offence meant. They weren’t a bit like you, in fact – they were large and solid. And there was a young man whom I spoke to; he was from the Macbeth company. That’s all.’
    ‘Just the four of you?’
    ‘Yes. And the undertaker’s men lurking about. It was so sad.’
    The idea of this dismal farewell appalled Manolakis; Greeks ordered these things differently. He looked shocked.
    ‘So it’s not much help to you,’ Liz went on.
    ‘Did you look at the flowers?’ Patrick asked.
    ‘Yes. Apart from the ones I took, there were some from the Fantasy Theatre – the whole cast, it said. That was all.’
    ‘Hm. Well, you’re right – it doesn’t give us any new information about his personal life,’ said Patrick.
    ‘No. But you’ll look up that girl tomorrow, won’t you? The one who’s got that house up here – she’ll have moved by now, won’t she?’ Liz asked.
    ‘Tessa Frayne. Yes.’ Patrick might learn something about her aunt’s life from the girl. ‘You two needn’t come,’ he said. ‘You can go and goggle at Shakespeare’s Birthplace or something.’
    ‘That’s a good idea. I’d like that, wouldn’t you, Dimitri?’ Liz said.
    ‘With you, Liz, I would like anything,’ said Manolakis, treating her to an ardent look from his large, dark eyes.
    And to crown this exhibition, the play they were to see tonight was one of the most poignant tales of the power of jealousy ever created, Patrick thought, and he withdrew from them, back to the limits of his seat once more. Well, Manolakis would not be in England for